Under the Old Oak

Under the Old Oak

It rose up quiet, overnight
no fanfare, no permission asked,

just a slow push through the dark
and then: a standing thing.

Beneath the great tree's crooked arms
it did not envy all that height.

Its work was nearer to the ground

to break, to feed, to hand the soil
back what the seasons took.

Small, and still it lifted up
a face toward the borrowed light,

proof that what grows unseen for long
was never truly still.

Roots run before the rising.
Legacy begins in the quiet.

So stand where you were planted
and let the light come find you there.

#GodBlessAmerica